Leslie's Secret Diary

No one in this world can say for sure which profession will take the most significant place in their life. I certainly could never have foreseen that life would hand me the role of a private prostitute. Yes, I am a call girl. Sometimes, I want to talk about my work, but, you understand, friends and relatives don't know what I do. For them, I am Katerina, a nightclub administrator, and for my clients — Leslie Worth, an elite girl for the night.

Girls in my line of work need to take good care of their appearance. I am 170 cm tall, have green eyes, am blonde, and my measurements are 100—65—90.

I love orders involving role-playing games.

This time, the client wanted to "hire" a stripper. For such orders, I already have a specific club with a VIP room. So, putting on lace lingerie and stockings with garters, rubbing my whole body with lavender lotion, and throwing on a coat, I headed to the call.

Confidently opening the door, I entered the club. The security plays along each time, pretending we don't know each other, although of course they actually know who I am and why I'm here. To avoid attracting unnecessary attention, I headed along the precisely planned route to the room. Click-click-click — my heels tapped on the granite floor. Stopping by the door, I bent over and shook my hair — clients love slightly tousled strands. Well, let's start our game — let's go in.

A man around thirty-five, solid-looking, was sitting on the sofa. A businessman. With such men, everything is strictly timed.

I approached him and lightly kissed his lips to establish the first contact. He handed me an envelope — money upfront — that's the main rule of my work.

In the center of the room, as always, stands my favorite pole. The man pulled me to him and began roughly tearing off my coat. Freeing my body from the unnecessary clothing, he buried a kiss in my chest and began kneading it fiercely. Then he pulled away, sat down, and said: "Dance." A few turns on the pole, graceful bends — all of this drove the man wild. Time to act. Erotically descending from the pole, I walked over to the client and sat on top of him. Through the fabric, his hard cock was already palpable, but it was still too early to move to the sweetest part.

A kiss on the neck, then on the lips, and a passionate play of our tongues. Then he fumbled with the bra clasp, but I quickly helped him, and my breasts were presented before his face. He began greedily biting them, pulling on the nipples, and squeezing. His hand started moving lower and lower, slipping into my panties. It was already perfectly wet there. He liked that.

— Bitch, already wet, that's good — he whispered in my ear.

I knelt down before him and began to take out his cock. It wasn't huge, but quite decent and pleasant-looking. Carefully, I circled the head with my tongue and began slowly taking it deeper and deeper, smacking with pleasure. The client grabbed my head and began sharply thrusting onto his cock. Having enjoyed the blowjob to his fill, he released my head and let me act on my own. (Specially for etales.org — etales.org) Men love to assert their dominance. I'm used to that. After a few more times running my lips along its entire length, I moved to sit on him and, arching my back, he took me by the waist and gently inserted his cock. He inserted it gently but began wielding it roughly. Literally pounding me. I decided to set the rhythm and began writhing on him, he liked it, and soon we achieved a joint rhythm. He squeezed my ass and pressed me harder and harder against him. I moaned. I felt good. He did too.

Then he put me on all fours. Wants anal, most likely.

— Oh no, not in the ass, — I pleaded, men love it when they think I'm afraid of anal. — You're so big, it will hurt me.

— Your job is to do everything I want, — he said and slapped my ass.

First, one finger began drilling into the anal opening, slowly it went in and moved back and forth, then he began inserting his cock. It hurt.

— Ow, stop! It hurts! — I screamed, he didn't stop and soon thrust it all the way in, making me cry out sharply.

— Mmmmm, but it's good here. Tight and pleasant, — he said and began picking up the pace.

I moaned louder and louder.

— Ah, harder! Faster! More! Ah! Ah! — the cry intensified.

— And at first you were scared, — he said, and suddenly stopping, came inside. I arched my back and, turning around, began sucking his cock. Every last millimeter. He was satisfied. Taking a cigar from the nearby table, he began smoking it.

— I think we'll become friends, Leslie. I think this isn't our last date.

— I hope so, — I said and, running my tongue over his cock one last time, stood up, put on my coat, and left the VIP room.

Walking quickly and avoiding eye contact with the club staff, I went outside and got into the first taxi. The first client of the night serviced. One more to go.